


I Feel Like I’m Falling Off The Edge

by Wealthywetsunny



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drugs, Gen, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Joseph is very unhappy, No Smut, Non-Consensual Drug Use, The Voice now talks to Rook, Unreliable Narrator, bliss, the rest of the family is just along for the ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny
Summary: She needs to leave. But her limbs are heavy—it took literal hours to escape the Henbane—and she's still seeing dainty, white flowers that pop up in droves all around her.They’re pretty. Which is probably the point, makes you forget that they’re so dangerous. She reaches out to touch one anyway, but a pair of boots crunch leaves underfoot—and her flowers—stopping directly in front of her. Almost stepping on her fingers.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [9shadowcat9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9shadowcat9/gifts).



“Well, now isn’t this a welcome surprise?” 

Rook cranes her head up, squinting past the sun until she spots him. His whole body is shining, encompassed by a silhouette of light. He looks like a god. 

“My men said you were out here, crawling through the grass behind my ranch, and I just had to come see it myself. I almost couldn’t believe it.” He smiles at her, a Cheshire Cat sort of grin that, even in her state, she registers means danger. 

She needs to leave. But her limbs are heavy—it took literal hours to escape the Henbane—and she's still seeing dainty, white flowers that pop up in droves all around her. 

They’re pretty. Which is probably the point, makes you forget that they’re so dangerous. She reaches out to touch one anyway, but a pair of boots crunch leaves underfoot—and her flowers—stopping directly in front of her. Almost stepping on her fingers. 

John crouches down, careful to make sure his knees don’t hit the dirt. He tilts his head to catch her eyes. “What are you doing here?” Then, softer and almost accusatory, “what bliss did you get into?” He looks far too amused when she goes limp, unable to keep her head up any longer. Her eyes nearly roll in the back of her head to keep her gaze trained on him. 

“You’re trashed, deputy. High out of your goddamn mind!”

“I’m not.” She argues back, face still smushed in the dirt. It’s soft, she could fall asleep like this.

A flicker of annoyance crosses his handsome face.

She gets up on her hands and knees, crawling forward until she’s directly in front of him. Close enough to touch. And touch she does—it’s tempting with him so near. Him smelling faintly of vanilla and firewood. She touches his cheek, just to see how his beard feels beneath the pads of her fingers. 

“You don’t sound mad,” she observes with a curious tip to her head. She lets her other hand lay down on his shoulder, using him as leverage to get up on her knees. They’re practically level now. 

“Should I be? Have you indulged in something other than bliss tonight?”

“Well,” she pauses, train of thought veering off to focus on the feeling of John's cheek under her hand. Brushing through his facial hair, which is softer than she ever thought possible. 

“Well…?”

Her eyes shoot back to his. “Hm?” 

He sighs, a smile curling his lips up. “Did you have anything to drink? Maybe...smoke?”

“Cigarettes?”

He snorts, grabbing her hand off his cheek to press down into the grass. “No.”

She still has free reign of her other hand though, and she doesn’t waste time dragging it down his body. His muscles are pulled taut because of the position he’s in, they’re hard and pointed under her hand. Strong enough to hurt her just like everyone has warned her about.

She’d like to think John—all the Seeds actually—don't need to be ruthlessly murdered. They’ll be brought to justice. Each of them will see their day in court. But she thought the same of Faith—her being saved, of being harmless enough. Then Rook wandered a little too deep into the Henbane and now, as John had so eloquently put it, she’s ‘high out of her goddamn mind,’ losing her thoughts to the wind and looking off at things that aren’t really there. 

It makes her stupid enough to think being this close to John is okay. 

“I’m going to save you,” she tells him suddenly, and it’s only when she looks at him does she realize that he had been speaking to her and that she must’ve cut him off. 

“Did you...hear anything I said just now?”

She shakes her head, tugging the deep V of his shirt lower to see the scars hidden underneath. He bats her hand away, pinning that one to the ground as well. 

“The bliss certainly has worked its magic on you.” He stands up so suddenly that when Rook tries to follow him she falls back on her ass. He’s got his hands on his hips, a small tilt to his posture as his leg sticks out slightly. “I think it’s time for your baptism.”

She barely has time to stutter out an incoherent “w-what?” before he hauls her off the ground and drags her with him. His pace is too fast to keep up with, and she finds herself stumbling after him. She has a feeling that if she were to fall he’d simply keep walking, letting her head bang against every dip and bump. 

“Are your baptisms always this private?” She asks when they make it to the water. She stumbles once more as he guides her in, the silt at the bottom of the lake making her shoes stick. John, on the other hand, walks through the water like it’s second nature. He doesn’t miss a beat 

“Sometimes. It depends.” 

“On?”

“A number of things.” 

Before they’re too far in he rids himself of his vest. Tossing it on the shore. His hands hover by her jacket, it’s ripped and bloody. 

“You’re a mess,” he mutters, lips curling in disgust. His nose flares, probably just now smelling her. He physically reels back and she can’t help the laugh that bursts forth from her chest. 

He shakes his head, regaining his composure in an instant. It’s impressive, even more so now that he’s the only thing in sight. The butterflies aren’t gone, nor are the stray antelopes running around in the distance. But the world is so beautiful and John is the centerpiece—it’s impossible to ignore him. 

She gets it now, why they use bliss during the baptisms. Speaking of which...

“John?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, hands now holding tightly onto her biceps. Like she’d be able to run at all. 

“Don’t you usually put bliss in the water?”

His mouth opens in shock, flashing the pink of his tongue before he schools his mask back into place. “Yes. But I figured you've had enough.” He rocks on his heels, peering deeper into her eyes. “Though you don’t look  _ too  _ far gone.” He shrugs, “eh, why not? Lord knows your soul needs some  _ serious _ scrubbing, we might be at this a while.”

He parks her down at the edge of the lake once they’re out, tells her to stay put. Rook hums contentedly, collapsing down flat on her back to watch him walk away. Back into his ranch. It’s lit up bright, shining like a beacon in this hazy bliss world. 

She runs her fingers through the grass, laughs at the soft music playing in her ears coming from nowhere. The bliss is dangerous, she’s not that deep, where she’s lost all sense in her head. She knows she has somewhere to be tomorrow, people to protect and a cult to overthrow, but for now she can take a break. She can play pretend and act like everything is peachy keen.

Rook sighs, a smile appearing on her face as she closes her eyes against the sun. She stays like that for a fathomless amount of time, basking in the heat washing over her skin. She goes all star fish, like she’s about to make a snow angel, spread out and enjoying life for once. 

“Deputy. You look happy.”

She opens her eyes, head turning slowly until she catches sight of whoever is speaking in such a sweet, melodic voice. 

“Faaiiittthhh,” Rook draws her name out, laughing as she rolls over to sit up cross legged. “Hey. I thought you, uh,” she scrunches up her face, snapping her fingers to collect her thoughts, “I thought you guys don’t, y’know, visit each other like this. Aren’t you kinda stepping on John’s toes?”

Faith chassés, dress billowing in the wind as she bends down to reach Rook’s face. She tilts Rook’s chin up with fingers that dig into her skin. Teeth bright white as she smiles. 

“I think John will forgive me once he realizes why I’m here.”

“Uh-huh. Why  _ are _ you here?”

“To help you stay right where you are. And we really do want you to stay with us. Joseph says that you’re important, that you have a purpose in the project.” Faith plops down in the dirt. Still holding onto Rook’s face. “I don’t want you to leave the bliss just yet.”

“I have to. Because you,” she jabs her finger in Faith’s chest, “are very bad, and—and dangerous, and scary. But you’re pretty, so it’s hard to resist you.” 

Faith laughs, brightening up. “Oh deputy, that’s a shame, but I suppose all along I knew the lies you’ve been fed, but I also know that you don’t want to kill my family and I.”

Rook frowns. She feels a little bit more lucid now that she’s had time to recover from the bliss, and now she’s feeling achingly sick. 

“So stay a while longer, deputy. John will be mad if you go.”

“Yeah,” Rook agrees, shoving Faith's hands away to press her fingers to her eyes. She’s got a headache coming on. “He will. But I’m sure he’ll get over it.” She’s woozy, sparkles still on the fringes of her vision, but she can make it somewhere safe. To Nick’s place, probably. 

She goes to stand, even when Faith tries to pull her back down, she gets on her feet. She’s shaking, shoving Faith away, but the young woman keeps dancing around her. Jumping in her face and holding onto her arms. 

She’s saying sweet, flowery words that make Rook pause, but never stop. Until Faith shoves Rook hard in the center of her chest and blows a puff of powder in her face. The shock of it mixed with the force of the drug, makes Rook collapse into a pile of limbs. 

“Didn’t I say not to move?”

John is hovering above her. Blotting out the sun that looks as if it switched places in the sky. She can’t be sure of that though. 

He shakes his head at her, looking almost fond. “Well, no matter, you didn’t go too far. Come on, up and at ‘em, deputy.” 

He helps her stand, an arm slung around her torso to pull her beside him. She leans on him as they walk, her head lolling to the side on his chest. 

He hums something under his breath, watching as the men he brought along with him dump bliss into the water. 

Her eyes drift close. Muscles going lax. John, surprisingly, doesn’t comment on that. Content to hold all her weight. She’s not sure how long she spends leaning on him, but eventually he jostles her forward. 

“Ready?”

She grunts. Her words don’t really work anymore, getting lodged in the back of her throat. The bliss is thicker the further they go, and that doesn’t help her brain sorting through what’s real and what’s not. 

Why did she want to stay in the bliss? 

She can’t remember. 

The water is shockingly cold when he dunks her under. She hadn’t had time to register it wading in, but now that she’s fully submerged she gets hit with just how freezing it is. 

She doesn’t fight it, she can’t. Her mind is gone to the bliss and she’s strangely peaceful underwater. Lost to the sensation of bubbles floating across her cheeks and the hand she places on John’s chest to steady herself. 

Rook is tempted to go fully limp, just to see if John would keep her upright. 

But then she’s being pulled back to the surface, John’s face swimming into view, and she can breathe. 

“I think we ought to go again, hm?”

And again...And again...And again...

Until she loses track.

By that time she actually does let herself go all dead in his arms. The only show of her life being the way her fingers drum wearily against his stomach. 

The cuffs of his shirt are soaked when John finally deems her baptism complete. His jeans are wet up to his knees as well as a few strands of hair from when he pushed them out of his eyes with a dripping hand. She’s worse off. Looking like a drowned rat. Lying on the shoreline as John drapes a towel across her body. It’s fluffy and white, soft enough to consider falling asleep.

“If I come back here in the morning,” because her baptism  _ had  _ taken all day and now the sun is beginning to set, “and you’re still here, I’ll take that as permission to get a head start on your confession, deputy.” 

John leaves her then, to shiver and freeze as nighttime sweeps across the Valley. She’s safe at least, in the sense that no one will sneak up on her unless John says so. It’s as good a place as any to come down from the bliss. 

Which, it turns out, it a living nightmare. Hell on earth that makes her question whether or not she’d be better off eating her gun. In the worst of it, when she’s shaking so bad she can’t even hold a pen right, she sort of wanders. She can hardly get words out, so grabbing her radio to let everyone know she’ll be MIA isn’t an option. She’ll stumble upon someone eventually, cult or otherwise, and word will get around. 

For now though Rook walks, tries to find some sort of prepper’s stash to ride out this bad trip. Unless it’s not a bad trip at all and more of an overdose. Is that possible? To overdose on bliss? She isn’t sure, but that’s what it feels like. As she sweats buckets and goes from freezing cold to boiling hot in a matter of seconds. 

She needs to lie down somewhere. Someplace without bliss, preferably. The Henbane is out by default, but she can’t go to the Mountains either. She’s too weak, and the moment she steps foot in Jacob’s region, he’ll know. He’ll see her stumbling and shaking apart and he’ll grab her. She can’t run through his trials right now. And John...no, not an option. He’ll find her soon enough, still doped up, and he’ll take advantage. 

She groans, falling back against a tree to steady herself. Truth be told they’ll all manipulate her if given the chance. She’d feel safer on Joseph’s island though, as strange as that sounds, he wouldn’t force her through hoops when she’s so sick. Right?

Only one way to find out. 

.0.

It’s been...ten weeks. Rook taps her notebook twice with the tip of her pen. Give or take, ten weeks. 

Months of having to listen to the Voice—and that’s Voice, capital ‘v,’ based off of the end of the world speeches she's been getting—and she’s starting to go a little mad. 

She fumbles for the radio on her belt. Dropping it once in her hast before she manages to clamp her finger down on the button on the side. 

“Joseph?” 

Rook found the call signal a while ago, she just hopes it’s the right one. 

“Joseph? Are you there?”

It’s late at night, 9 pm, but she doubts even he has such an early bedtime. 

“Deputy Rook. You’re...calling me.” He sounds tense, but not annoyed that she reached out. His voice has dropped low, like he needs to be quiet. 

“I am.”

“Is there a reason for that? Should I be awaiting a call from whichever one of my siblings you upset?” 

She laughs at that, curling her fingers in her hair and  _ tugging _ at the sudden onslaught of words spoken by an entity that’s not there. She wants the Voice to shut the fuck up, it whispers in her ear, speaks from all directions and nowhere at once. It won’t shut up. Joseph has to know, if he’s not completely full of shit and really does hear a Voice like her. 

Or would it be the other way around? She hears a voice like him? She sighs, semantics. 

“There’s, uh…” she blows a raspberry, shaking her head, “y’know that Voice of yours?”

“Yes?”

“How do you get it to shut the fuck up?”

“Um—“

“It just keeps on talking, whispering things until it’s the only thing I focus on. So,” she sucks hard on her lower lip, “how do you make it stop?” 

“E-excuse me? Deputy, just where are you tonight?”

She stiffens. Everything in her body going painfully taut as she hears the  _ ice  _ in Joseph’s voice. She doesn’t give him anything. She lays the radio down in front of her, staring at it like it’s Joseph himself. 

“Have you had any more bliss? I heard what my family did...perhaps you’ve had too much.”

Rook shifts uncomfortably, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. Trying so desperately hard not to listen to the Voice. 

“I’m sober, Joseph.”

“You’re hearing things,” he mutters. “You’re not  _ special,  _ you’re dangerous. Your wrath will bring about the end of the world.” He sucks in a deep breath, “you’re teasing me, aren’t you? Poking fun because you’re bored.”

She huffs, grabbing the radio to snarl down the line. “You think I’m  _ lying _ ? Joseph I feel fucking crazy and you don’t believe me?! Fuck you!”

It’s not the note she wanted to end on. She especially hadn’t wanted to leave without a solution to this ever persistent problem. 

Screw it, she’ll figure it out herself. Maybe more bliss would help. An actual overdose this time instead of the fluke she had that left her fucked up in the head. 

She thinks, as days pass without hearing from Joseph, that she’s in the clear. He hasn’t spoken a word of their conversation to anyone. Her secret, whether he believes her or not, is safe in all his madness. 

It’s a small blessing. Despite the constant chatter in her skull that lets her know that the world is coming to an end—though what the Voice doesn’t tell her is  _ how.  _

It’d be nice to know how to stop it. But maybe the Voice is really God after all, and God does want to cleanse the filthy humans. 

Rook believes that everything will be okay so long as no one else knows. That hope is short lived, as most things are in this county, when she’s crossing the Valley and she gets hit with another dose of bliss, an arrow in her thigh that she hadn’t seen coming. So it must be Jacob’s hunters. 

It’s not a strong dose. She still has her wits about her when a truck rolls by and loads her in. She’s just not strong enough to fight them off, though they still take the precaution of tying her limbs and shoving a gag in her mouth. 

That’s how she’s brought before the Seeds, in Joseph’s church on the hard floor, glaring up at them as they chat above her. Like she’s not tied at their feet. 

She grunts past her gag, legs kicking out as best as she can to try and strike one of them. All she gets is Jacob glancing down at her, lip curling in disdain before he turns his eyes back on his siblings. 

“It’s a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating. Not stuck here.” John scuffs his foot against the floor. Pouting almost. 

“It  _ is,”  _ Faith insists, moving to bend down and pat Rook on the head like she’s some prized pet. “And we will. Soon. But she’s far from being welcomed into Eden’s Gate—“

Jacob snorts, mirth dancing behind the mask he usually wears. “She won’t be going to you, Faith. In case you hadn’t noticed, Joseph’s mad.”

“I don’t see why.”

“And,” Jacob continues, as if Faith hadn’t spoken at all, “Rook isn’t getting anywhere near the bliss. Not after this shit. Which,” he cracks a smile, “is fucking amazing, huh, Rook? How do you like being important for once?”

Rook is about to respond, at least the best she can with the gag still in her mouth, but the doors open and Joseph’s voice cuts through their words.

“Enough. All of you. You’re being way too loud, I can hear you from all the way outside.” The door slams behind him, echoing in a way that makes her flinch. “We don’t need everyone to think she’s some sort of...prophecy.”

Faith’s little nose scrunches up. “But...isn’t she?”

“She  _ is _ . But not in the way you’re now assuming. She’s a sinner. The harbinger of the end. She’s not grand or good.”

Jacob steps over her as casual as can be, “doesn’t seem that way anymore.”

“Yeah,” John pitches in, “maybe you guys are two pieces of the same puzzle. Maybe this will finally make the last months of the reaping easier if we had Rook with us.”

Joseph clenches his eyes shut, fisting his jeans within his fingers. “She cannot hear the Voice! The bliss doesn’t do that! She’s a liar who is plagued with envy. John, take her, cleanse her of her sin. Then we’ll see what she still has to say about the Voice.” 

As it turns out, Joseph lasts all of the ten minute drive to John’s bunker before he realizes that he doesn’t trust her alone with his baby brother. Smart, considering how giddy John is to welcome her into the family. 

He’d be more ready to just...let her go, speed things along so she can stand by his side and take on the Collapse. 

Joseph is a silent spectator in the corner of John’s confession room. Hands clasped behind his back as he glares at her. 

If she didn’t know any better she’d say he was the one suffering from envy. He’s not used to having to share the spotlight. 

John’s fiddling with his tattoo gun when he speaks. A genuine smile twisting his lips. “When did you first hear the Voice?”

“That’s not the point of this, John.”

“It is important though, don’t you think?” He’s not looking at his brother, eyes boring into her soul. Imploring her to answer him. “Did you...see anything? That’s what the bliss does. Or...or did the Voice show you anything?”

“John—“

“She can prove whether she’s lying or not!” John snaps back. Head whirling around to stare daggers at Joseph. “Give her a chance instead of assuming she’s lying. She wouldn’t gain anything from taking it this far.” He looks back over to her, eyes softening as he lays the tattoo gun down to crouch in front of her. 

“What did you see?”

Joseph steps forward. “No.”

“Joe—“

“Give her a fresh dose of bliss. I want to experience it with her. I want to hear what she says when she can’t be swayed by anything else but the truth.” 

Rook, appropriately so, starts to worry. More bliss is the last thing she needs. After all the drugs have done to her she feels like this is the worst possible route they could take. But arguing with Joseph would be a bad idea. Quite honestly she’s never seen him so angry. Literally anger. Not the calm, ice cold tone he may take with his disappointment shows.

This is real anger. 

Wrath. 

She doesn’t say any of that. Her head hurts. Even more so when John smears a coating of bliss below her nose. 

It’s impossible to avoid inhaling it—but she tries, holds her breath for as long as she can until she’s forced to take a gasping lungful that ends in a cough. 

The bliss is exactly as she remembers it. Except this time when she goes walking (what else is there to do when you’re hallucinating?) she stumbles across Joseph. 

He’s got his back to her, hand idly moving back and forth through a lake. Creating tiny ripples that she can’t help but be mesmerized by. 

He doesn’t seem to know she’s there. 

One day she’s going to have to ask how the bliss really works. 

Rook falls down onto her knees beside him, only slightly irritated that he doesn’t immediately look up. She pokes him in the ribs. Once. Twice. Until he grabs her hands within his own with a soft order to “calm down.” 

She sighs, leaning down against his shoulder. They watch the sun set, it begins to grow cold and she shakes. 

“It’s beautiful, hm, Rook?” 

She nods. Words can’t describe it. 

“It’s going to end. Soon enough. We won’t see the sun, or feel it’s warmth, for seven years.” He huffs, his whole body deflating. “We can’t stop it, but we can survive it. Don’t you want that?”

Another nod. 

“So why are you testing me, my child? You’re here for a reason...you’re making me question what your purpose is when I thought I knew.” 

He sounds more resigned that she’s ever heard him. He stands up, gently nudging her to the side. He extends his hand for her to take—she does, there’s nowhere else to go. 

“What does the Voice tell you? Or…” his lips twitch downward, “show you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

He grinds his teeth together. She gets the impression she’s annoying him. 

Rook stops walking. Making their hands fall apart. 

“We can't stop the end of the world,” she echos flatly, legs shaking and weak, “but once it comes we’ll know  _ why  _ it ended, and who’s to blame.” 

Joseph doesn’t come forward like she expected. He tilts his head at her, eyes shifting to over her shoulder, narrowing slightly, like he’s looking at someone else. 

Rook doesn't follow his gaze. More intent on figuring out why he’s just standing there...staring. 

“You’re frightening me, Rook.”

She blinks at him.

_ What? Her?  _

“You don’t sound like yourself and...and you look...distant.” 

It sounds like he’s starting to believe her. She can’t bring herself to care though, not when the bliss is dragging her deeper.

She turns on her heel, hallucination wobbling slightly (they must’ve given her just a tiny bit) and her arms reach out to steady herself. 

Rook focuses on her feet dragging against the grass so she won’t fall. It works for a while—hearing Joseph’s footsteps behind her helps to, and it’s nice that he’s quiet, just letting her collect her thoughts—everything is so fucking  _ perfect.  _

Her hand, still swinging in front of her despite there being nothing around for miles, connects with something hard. 

“Rook!” 

She stumbles back, blinking rapidly.

There’s a tree there. 

Where did that come from?

“Come this way.” His hand is on her bicep, trying to turn her around. 

No. 

She wants to go towards the tree, towards where dozens of other trees are slowly appearing to create a forest. 

There’s got to be something back there. Doesn’t Joseph get how  _ fun  _ this could be? She wants to tell him, she turns her head and digs her feet into the ground, intending to do exactly that, when she suddenly hits the ground hard.

And the only thing that goes through her mind is

_ Oh god it fucking hurts  _

“Rook?!”

She curls up into a ball, gasping for air as she looks up and sees Joseph hovering above her on bended knee. He has a hand on her shoulder and she fights the urge to shake him off, to tell him to go shove it. 

“John, what the hell were you doing?”

Her eyes close and she shudders, pain racing down her spine and through her stomach. 

“I—I was helping.”

“You were  _ not.  _ You were supposed to help me keep an eye on her, not let her wander wherever she pleases.”

“You have eyes too, Joseph. You saw where she was headed.”

Rook shakes. Pain. All she knows is pain. She starts crying, her whole body shaking. 

“I was a little busy.” Said through gritted teeth. Even when she’s not looking at him she can tell how hard Joseph's jaw is clenched. “And I didn’t realize how dangerous your bunker is.” 

John scoffs, “dangerous. We’re underground in a bunker that’s meant to house hundreds of people. We have a mechanical unit, exposed pipes and chemicals, of course it’s dangerous!” 

She pulls her hands away from where they’re cradling her stomach. Expecting to find blood. They come up empty when she wags them in front of her face. 

What hurts then?

As best as she can she cranes her neck down—curling into herself further—tugging her shirt up just a tad. 

Her skin is red. Tiny, red bubbles are starting to form. It burns. 

“Dry ice shouldn’t be left around to be knocked over,” Joseph mutters, carefully petting through her hair. “Help me get her to the medbay.” 

Joseph forces her onto her feet, despite the way it makes the skin on her stomach stretch. She sobs, the bliss is only helping a little with the pain. She wants to ask for more but she knows they’ll refuse. 

It doesn’t mean the bliss is entirely gone from her system. It’s not. The world is still hazy, a thick fog that settles across everything. 

And then there’s the Voice. That hasn’t gone away either. 

Joseph lifts her to her feet with an arm around her torso, fingers splaying out on her waist. John’s only a couple steps ahead, glancing back at them every so often with creased brows. 

She stumbles slightly, foot catching on the lip of a door she doesn’t see. Joseph curses as she goes down—almost hitting the ground if not for his reflexes. Faster than she is doped up, that’s for sure. 

He catches her around her middle, hands slipping to her back to clutch her tightly. She’s half slumped against him, her arms thrown around his neck as her knees threaten to give out. 

“Rook—“

“You,” she jabs a finger in his chest, silencing him. (The Voice is  _ so  _ loud now) “your pride shall be the end of us all.” She pauses, listening hard for what It tells her next. “This is all your fault, you’re just too vain to see it. But one day...He’ll make you see.” She’s shaking, teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek. 

Maybe if she says everything the Voice is whispering in her ear, it’ll quiet down. Maybe she can appease it. 

“...oh,” he murmurs, blinking down at her. From this close she can see how his lower lip trembles. 

John’s feet scuff against the floor, squeaking loudly. “Joseph. Do you need help with her?”

Joseph doesn’t respond. He’s still staring at her, getting her fully onto her feet before letting her go completely as he backpedals. 

“Here eyes, John, do they look—“

“Blissed? Yes.”

Joseph nods. He’s staring at her. She doesn’t look away. “They weren’t like that before. Were they?” 

John shakes his head. Fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. “No.” He glances at his brother. “I didn’t give her that much, just a pinch, you saw me.”

“I did. 

John steps forward and grabs her wrist. Tugging her forward. Along the way, with Joseph walking by his side, he says, “she’s wrong. About your sin—she has no right to name it.”

“But if it’s not her naming it at all? If it’s the Voice?”

“It could be a different Voice. The Devil.”

They make it to the medbay, John finally lets go of her wrist, pushing her back until she falls onto a soft bed. 

Joseph hums noncommittally, frowning as he watches her lie down. Her eyes fluttering weakly as she fights the bliss. 

“It’s her wrath, isn’t it, John? That’s what will bring about the Collapse?” He glances at his brother for reassurance, “after all I've done, all my years spent  _ helping _ people, I can’t be the one who ends it.”

Rook laughs before John can answer. She’s still slumped over, looking half dead. “You’re so stupid,” she murmurs, “so ignorant.”

Joseph shudders, backing up. “Get her off the bliss. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t want a single trace of it in her body.”

John raises an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Send her to Jacob. Let her run his trials.”

“You’re trying to kill her.”

“No.” Joseph has a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m not. But I don’t know who else can contain her.”

“You?”

He shakes his head, turning to leave. He’s trembling, anyone can see that, but no one dares to mention it. “I’m going away for a while...to pray. To see if the Voice has anything to say. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone but I can’t stay here. I need guidance.”

“Joseph,” John steps forward, grabbing his shoulder, “our flock will be lost without their Father.”

“They won’t. They’re strong. And if they’re any flock of mine then they’ll understand why I need to take this leave.” He glances back at where John is still holding him. “Let me go, John. I need to pack.” 

John watches his brother leave. He’s not sure when he’ll ever see him again. He has to resist the urge to scream and shout, to fall to the ground and just cry. He wants nothing more than to shoot Rook dead here and now. To end it all so he can run to Joseph and say “look! The sinner is gone, the snake in our garden is no more! You don’t have to go anywhere, please, it’s not safe.” 

He doesn’t do any of that. He loves his brother and he’ll walk to the ends of the earth for Joseph. And so he turns back towards Rook and looks at the doctors around him, waiting for orders. 

“Well? You heard the Father. Get to work. She’ll be going through withdrawals soon, I recommend chains to keep her down.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Joseph has lived too long to consider himself prideful anymore, but the twinge of panic that swells up inside him when he realizes he’s lost and should’ve asked for more assistance before his Chosen departed is there all the same. 

Wrath is taking refuge inside him too, festering in his very soul because he can’t get Rook out of his head no matter how hard he tries. She lives there now, taking up permanent residence among everything else he deems important. She’s top priority, as much as he hates that. And he really, truly does  _ hate  _ it—he doesn’t use such a strong word lightly.

It’s been a while since he’s sinned, and the rush of emotions that comes along with it feels brand new. He needs guidance now more than ever. Almost more than when he first began in Rome, when he searched the city streets looking for his brothers and wanted so badly to give up. To crawl away somewhere dark and secluded and just die. 

Suicide is a sin though. And God had plans for him. Hopefully He still does. Joseph’s been having doubts ever since Rook has been given the gift he once held tight to his chest as his own. Maybe that had been Joseph’s mistake, believing that the Voice had been his alone. He’s pretty sure that would fall under Greed. Envy, too, if the nasty jealousy in his chest is as real as he thinks it is.

Joseph suddenly feels disgusted to have so many sins inside him. He feels tainted. More than anything he wishes John were here to cleanse him, it’s been so long since he’s had to do it himself. Just him and God’s ever watchful eye. Which is why he’s traipsing through the forest, hoping for some kind of sign, a river or a lightning strike. Anything to bring him back up from the depths he so carelessly fell down. He doesn’t want to be a lost cause, but ever since Rook came along with her Voice, he’s beginning to worry. 

Those doubts are what makes the sinners in Hope county fight against him. He will not turn into one of them. And so for now he’ll make his way through this thick forest, cold and lost, praying as he walks. Letting his feet and God guide him. 

_ Joseph is so very tired _ . But he can’t stop. He hasn’t deserved it just yet. 

.0.

She wakes in John’s bunker, the same dull colored walls of the medbay greeting her when she first opens her eyes. She does a quick scan and tries to comb back through her mind, searching for a memory just out of reach. And it dawns on her, just as suddenly as the weather changes in the Whitetails, that this might not be John’s bunker at all. There had been no reason to keep her with John at all, he had been present at the time and under Joseph’s orders. 

The Seeds all alone? Left without their Father? She could be anywhere. John’s under the careful watch of Joseph, he wouldn’t dare defy older brother at the risk of religious damnation, right? 

But she feels good—healthier than she has for weeks—so for now she trusts that to some degree she’s safe.

She doesn’t remember much, but the moments before they chained her to the bed and kept her off the bliss is sticking with her. She knows Joseph commanded that—and so it came true. John followed his orders and she feels better, if only slightly. In fact, that might've been the best idea Joseph's ever had, because the Voice is quiet. Hopefully for good. It gives her time to think now that her head is her own.

She’s safe. She has time. Right now she has to sleep, the bliss leaving her system took a toll on her. Right now she’s nothing more than a limp mass of flesh and bones. Tired to her very core. 

Rook swears she closes her eyes for a second, that’s it, but suddenly she’s flinching in the bed and on high alert.

“Stop squirming, need to take your IV out.”

She swallows and pinches her eyes shut. She knows that voice,  _ she fucking knows it _ . Who the hell decided to leave her with big brother? 

Jacob’s got one large hand on her stomach, smushing her organs under his strength, while the other slips the needle out of her arm. He pushes a wad of cotton over the blood that immediately comes rushing out, taping it up to keep it in place. 

“Think you can stand?”

Rook nods, not trusting her voice. She knows it’ll shake at the thoughts running through her head. The idea that he’s been taking care of her when she had been passed out and helpless makes her tremble. Did he  _ do _ anything? Is he that kind of man?

Jacob, predictably, doesn’t help her. He steps back and leans against a nearby trolly, watching her as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and stares down at her bare feet dangling. She takes note of the baggy sweatpants and tank top that aren’t hers and can’t help herself.

“Who changed me?” She croaks, wincing at the crackle in her throat.

“I did. Didn’t trust anyone else around you.”

She makes a startled noise and gets up, shifting on her feet at the coolness of the tiles. “I was unconscious.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You weren't. You may not remember it, but you were having withdrawals.” He speaks to her slowly, like he’s trying to explain something to a child. “Fought anyone that came near you. Someone had to keep you alive though.”

He gets off of the cart he had been leaning on and walks around her. Towards a whole set of cupboards that he opens up. He kneels down and tosses something on her bed, the action makes her jump. He’s quick on his feet. Quicker than her. But then again he hasn’t been in a coma for the past however long.

“Put those on, I’m not coming back here because you tore up your soles or some shit.” 

Rook hesitates for only a second before she grabs at what he tossed her—a pair of pastel blue socks that are too large and go up to her ankles. For the moment he’s allowing her to hesitate, for there to be pauses between his commands, but she knows that has a time limit. Doesn’t matter, she’ll take it. 

“Let’s go.” He struts forward and grabs her upper arm, hauling her with him. She nearly collides into him when he stops to swing open a door, still unsteady on her feet. 

Which reminds her—

“How long have I been out?”

“Twelve weeks.”

Honestly? Not as bad as she thought. She’s seen what the bliss does to people. How long it takes to revive them, and even then sometimes they don’t come back the same. 

She doesn’t feel any different. Small mercies in that regard. 

They step out into a long corridor that seems to go on forever. She can just barely make out where it turns left down the way. The lighting makes her feel drowsy, all artificial and yellowish. Jacob seems used to it though. 

“Does Joseph know I’m awake?” She hazards to ask as they start walking. “Is that where we’re going?” 

“So many questions,” he muses. 

Rook has to hold back the urge to hit him. Or at least dig her heels into the floor. But her stomach is rolling and she feels a headache coming on so she does what he wants her to do. At least for now. 

“But—“ they turn left and she stumbles at the speed they’re going, eyes eating up the new scenery, “guess you oughta know we’re going to John’s ranch. Having a family meeting.”

She bobs her head in a nod and he glances curiously down at her. 

“Expected you to put up a fuss about that.” He huffs out a laugh. Hand settling higher to rest on her shoulder. “You don’t really seem too...” he pauses and searches for the right word, “adverse to going.”

“I’d like to see Joseph again, actually.” 

“Joseph isn’t gonna be there.”

Her brow furrows and she looks up at him. “No?” She waits for him to add onto what he said but nothing comes. She gets the message and drops it, someone will let it slip, surely. 

But now she’s worrying. More than anxious actually, the further they make their way through his bunker. They’re headed upstairs to the surface, but along the way she sees enough to raise all sorts of alarm bells. 

What happened to Joseph? Why are his followers so...ugh, no, needy isn’t the right word. Maybe...fanatic? Praying in random spots obviously not meant for such things and calling out to Jacob like he’s their savior—god and the scriptures on the walls, she’s surprised Jacob allowed such a thing in the first place. Though there’s a chance he didn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole. Like the subject of the Father had suddenly turned into a sore topic. 

_ Joseph is going to kill them all. _

Rook flinches so hard that it grabs Jacob’s attention. He’s not holding her anymore, she isn’t much of a threat and he sees that clear as day. But suddenly he’s bending at the waist with his hands on her shoulders to ground her. 

He’s saying...something. A lot of something by how fast his mouth is moving, but she can’t understand it at all. Like she’s hearing him from under water. 

There’s a brilliant flash in front of her eyes and she falls. Held up only by Jacob. 

“Deputy? Fuck. Rook, can you hear me?”

She tries to respond. To say that she’s fine, but it comes out garbled. Sounds more like “Mm fin.’” Which must not do anything to calm him down. 

“Water, John, get me a bottle of water.”

John? When did John get here?”

“Can I do anything, brother?”

“Fuck, Faith, I don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s the same as Joseph’s...just keep cooking dinner, she’ll need the food.” 

Rook tries to open her eyes but nothing happens. Just a twitch of her lids. Jacob must see the movement because he helps her out. Takes her eyelid and carefully pulls it open until she can see. 

It’s a bit blurry but it gets the job done. Jacob slowly comes into view, hovering over her, and she realizes that she’s lying down on a couch. 

She hadn’t been here a minute ago. 

“Jacob? What happened?” She tries to sit up but Jacob pushes her back down with a pointed glare. 

“You passed out. Screamed like a wild thing when you went down. Are you alright?”

Since when did Jacob care about her well-being? What kind of twilight zone did she step into? 

“Fine. Yeah. Just,” she waves her hand at her head, “hurts.” 

John rushes back in. Holding two water bottles.

“What took so long?” Jacob snaps, snagging the water from his outstretched hand. “Here. Drink.” He hands one of them off to her and she greedily uncaps it and pours it down her throat. 

They’re both watching her. Jacob has eyes like a medic, carefully detached for the job. And John looks genuinely concerned, brows pulled down and eyes wrinkling at the sides as they flick around her face. It’s weird, she never thought she’d see such an open expression coming from him, directed at her no less. 

“Was it the Voice?” John finally asks. Seeming almost shy to do so. 

“Think so.” She says when she’s had her fill of water and sinks back into the cushions. “I thought it was gone—that it was a side effect of the bliss…”

“That’s what Joseph assumed. But it was only that: an assumption. Doesn’t matter,” he smiles suddenly, moving past Jacob to sit on the edge of the couch. Nearly crushing her hand. “God wants it to be this way and we can’t argue with that.” 

Rook blinks at him, momentarily confused. “Joseph was angry.” She hesitates before continuing. “But you guys aren’t?” 

Jacob grunts and stands up. “No point in bitching about it.” He looks over at John and cracks a grin, an old conversation then. “Decided that a couple weeks ago, Faith and John were all for it, that was always the end goal. To have you with us. They like the idea of family. I didn’t, but,” he shrugs. “Guess I caved, figured I could bring you into the family if it means my siblings won’t die.”

Rook doesn’t say anything to that. She doesn’t say that just because she hears what Joseph does, confirming what he had been preaching, means that she’s seen the light and now wants to join Eden’s Gate. But she’s a fool for thinking otherwise. Of course they’d take her in, thinking it’s a sign from God. She couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. 

Except there’s one thing still bothering her. 

“So where is Joseph exactly? I assume he has some sort of opinion on this?” 

“He’s reflecting. Praying.” John clears his throat and gets up alongside his brother, looking mildly uncomfortable. “He’ll be back when God speaks to him again. When He shows Joseph the right path to take from here.” 

“So who’s guiding the...your, uh, flock?”

John smiles widely. “We are. And you—they’ll follow you once we tell them the Voice has spoken to you. You’re whole world is going to change, deputy, you just have to embrace it.”

Not like she can run. It’s trapped inside her head, whispering in her ear. There’s a chance it’ll quiet down if she does as it wants, but, more than that, there’s a chance all her friends won’t die.

Rook grins stupidly. Suddenly she realizes that she has all the control, Joseph isn’t here to stop it and his siblings are so gung-ho about the whole thing that she doubts their resistance will be strong at all. 

John’s right. Her world  _ is  _ going to change. Just not in the way he thinks. 

Jacob helps her stand and jerks his head towards where she saw Faith disappear moments ago. 

“C’mon, plans were to eat dinner and talk, if you’re up for it?”

“Yeah...sure. Guess we have a lot to discuss.”

Jacob snorts and shakes his head. Obviously not as on board as he first said. Or as his other two siblings are, because John’s smiling and nearly bouncing on his heels. Which is something Jacob wouldn’t do in a million years. 

Their table is immaculately prepared. Wood polished and plates laid around for all four of them. Should be five, she bitterly thinks, such a coward—the bastard should be sitting here with his family, with her. They should be able to discuss what they’re going to do now, to compare notes at least! 

She’s scared. She admits it to them halfway through the dinner, staring down resolutely at her lap when three pairs of eyes swivel on her. From beside her Faith reaches out and grabs her hand, gently squeezing. 

Rook is so very terrified about the Voice in her head. She’s scared of the visions that plague her and the episode she just had which Jacob supplies looked a lot like the ones Joseph has. 

She needs someone to lean on, she needs someone to tell her how to handle this before she reveals her hand too soon. The end goal has to be stopping all the violence and death. To somehow make the Seeds softer. But she’s not sure how she won’t jump the gun, how she’ll be able to play this new act without her friends trying to kill her in the process. 

And what happens if she stops playing pretend and actually truly starts to care about the Seeds? 

It’s a dangerous game, one she’s not willing to play alone. 

“I’ll go find him—“

“We’ve looked already, Rook,” comes John’s softly controlled reply. But she can see his jaw clench with raw nerves. 

So she drops it. She finishes off her dinner and says that she’s tired. John offers up a guest bedroom and within the hour she’s freshly showered wearing a pair of Faith’s pajamas. 

She waits until the sun goes down before she makes her way back downstairs. She can’t sit here and wait for Joseph to come back—he won’t, when’s the last time he even heard the Voice? 

If she wants things to change then she needs the ring leader. She’ll bring him back, hopefully he isn’t as angry as before. 

“You’re going to go search for the Father, aren’t you?”

Rook whirls around at the base of the stairs, towards the kitchen, and spots Faith. She’s still dressed, like she hadn’t been willing to lie down for the night. Like she knew all along what Rook was planning to do.

No point in lying then. 

“Yes.”

“Thought so.” Faith grabs a bag off the counter and makes her way towards Rook, handing the pack to her. “Some clothes and food—a pistol too, in case you run into trouble. Though you should know that I plan on telling our flock that you’re not to be harmed. It should make your travels easier.”

“Oh…” she hadn’t even thought of that. Her mind is still reeling. “Right. Okay, thanks.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t.” Rook pauses and searches Faith’s pretty young face, all broken with concern, and sighs. “But I won’t come back until I find him. I promise.”

Faith nods. But she doesn’t look convinced. It dawns on Rook that Faith probably thinks she's running. That come morning she’ll be back with the resistance and fighting. It’d certainly be easier with Joseph gone. 

She can’t do that. Because at the end of the day she still has a Voice in her head and the only ones who won’t call her crazy are those in Eden’s Gate. She needs them to keep her grounded. She has to find Joseph before things get worse for her.

“Be safe,” Faith whispers as she slips out the door. 

Rook is a cop, she’s searched for people and animals alike. She has some sort of expertise, and so she finds a map in an abandoned home and does a grid search. First Holland Valley, then the Henbane, and finally the Whitetails. 

It takes about two weeks all in all. 

She can’t find him. 

The Voice is getting louder. Urging her to continue. Telling her to find Joseph, that he’s unhinged all alone and that he’ll be their downfall if he’s not brought to heel. 

She wonders what the hell he’s doing right now for the Voice to think he’s bringing the Collapse along quicker. 

.0.

Rook must be on a warpath right now, Joseph bitterly thinks. 

The Voice has spoken to him, but it hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. It showed visions of the end, showed Rook standing by his side and clinging to him as he bleeds. His brothers and sister are nowhere in sight. 

It must be because of her wrath. And yet the Voice never directs him to kill her. Or to break her like he had been trying to do since the very beginning. Plans have changed for their deputy it would seem. 

Joseph has to find her, maybe if he does the Voice will speak again and tell him what to do in that moment. Or maybe it will be stubbornly silent and he’ll be left scrambling and clueless. 

He sighs. He needs to find his way home. 

.0.

Rook is shaking. She feels like she’s going to be sick. She dry heaves but nothing comes up, if her hands weren’t shaking so bad she’d shove them down her throat. 

There’s blood  _ everywhere.  _ Like something out of a horror film. 

She closes her eyes and falls. Crumpling to her knees. Her foot bumps into something solid and cold—she doesn’t look, she can’t, she already knows what she’ll see. 

A massacre. One she's responsible for. And this time she can’t blame Jacob’s little song for winding her up. She did this on her own. 

“Rook? What have you done?”

She laughs. Of course. _ Of fucking course.  _ She’s been searching for Joseph for weeks, going on a month now, and he’s the one to find her. 

“Did you…? Rook, are you hurt, my child?”

She tangles her hands in her hair and tugs. Tries to forget the way she had so carelessly killed these people. 

They had called her a traitor. 

Joseph carefully walks over the bodies of the fallen resistance members and kneels beside her, a hand gently touching her arm. She’s covered in blood but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Why?” He asks, his hand crawling up to press over her sternum. Where her sin will go, she’s sure. 

“They lied to me.”

“Rook—“

Her eyes snap open and something about her expression makes him stop mid-sentence. 

“They said they had you. That they killed you and it wasn’t quick. They made it painful and slow and they watched you choke on your own blood. T-that your family was next.” She reaches out and grabs his shoulders, marring his skin with blood. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I snapped a-and saw red. I can’t explain it.”

“Wrath,” he mutters, going to wrap his arms around her and pull her to his chest, “John was right.” 

She laughs. “Well if I’m Wrath then you’re Pride.” 

He sighs and tightens his hold on her. “That’s not true.”

“Sounds like something a prideful bastard would say. You,” she jabs a finger in his stomach and hears his sharp intake of breath, “left your family and your flock because of your pride. Because for some reason you thought you and your Voice were more important than preparing your people.” She takes in a shuddering gasp and pulls back. “The Collapse is closer now more than ever.”

Joseph looks like he wants to argue but he just looks away. “Let’s go home. I...I know what to do now.” 

She hums and lets him lift her off the ground. He navigates through the minefield of dead bodies expertly, without passing  _ too  _ much judgment. But she can feel the tension leaking through his body. 

He’s nervous for the end—all that time spent away and perhaps he realizes what she said isn’t too far off from the truth. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s too late to change the course of the world now. The Collapse is coming, she knows this with absolute certainty now. There’s no point in trying to stop the fighting, there isn’t time. 

Joseph doesn’t comment on her quietness. Though that’s probably because he’s also lost in thought, silent the whole way until they spy Johns ranch through the trees. 

“Are they expecting us?”

She swallows and it hurts her throat. “No. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Been looking for you,” she clarifies when he peers down at her curiously. 

“Okay...okay, let’s go. We have much to discuss.”

Rook snorts and shoves away from him. No shit. Is he just now realizing this? Prideful snake. Thinking the whole world revolves around him, as if there had been ‘much to discuss’ when he left and gave his family no direction. 

She stomps ahead of him, catching the attention of a smattering of guards around the hanger. 

Faith must have kept her word because not once has Eden’s Gate bothered her—shot at her—and now is no different. Even if she’s covered in blood. They’re more focused on their Father anyway. 

She limps past them, she doesn’t want to hear Joseph give some bullshit speech in John’s yard. Instead she pushes open the doors to his ranch and calls his name. 

It takes a bit, he’s further in his house then he usually is, but suddenly he’s running down the stairs and pausing as he catches sight of her. 

“I thought it was you…” his eyes trail down her body and he breathes out a sigh of her name. “What happened? Whose blood is that?” He comes forward and cups her cheeks, searching her face before he scans the rest of her body. Hands running over her loose t-shirt and down her legs. 

It takes a minute of poking and prodding for the adrenaline to wear off. She hisses through her teeth and John pauses. 

She hadn’t even realized she had been hurt. 

“Let’s get these off of you. C’mon, I’ll call for a doctor.”

“Wait—“

“Rook, you’re hurt, everything else comes after, but I won’t lose you too.”

“It’s Joseph,” she says quickly, because at this point that’ll be the only way to stop him. She takes his hands in hers and manages a half smile. “He’s here. He’s okay.”

John hesitates, holding onto her and glancing back towards the open doors. “He’s not injured?”

“No.”

He nods resolutely. Jaw setting as he pulls her forward slightly. “Then I think he can take care of himself, right now my sister needs me.”

It takes Rook a moment to process what he said, that he isn’t talking about Faith. It makes something ache in her chest. She’s been left without family for a while, no friends to speak off as he traveled looking for Joseph, and now John’s here accepting her…

It’s upstairs, when she’s dressed in clean clothes and wrapped up in bandages, that the door to John’s room opens and Joseph peeks in. 

“Brother, I wasn’t sure if you were home.”

“I’m busy.”

He’s not anymore. Though he acts like he is, fussing around her by fluffing pillows and piling on more blankets. 

“Mhm.” Joseph steps inside and eyes them both. “Did you call Jacob and Faith.”

“I did.”

“I...I’ll wait downstairs.”

Rook glances up at John, at the anger on his face, and carefully touches his arm. “Why’re you acting so cold?”

John laughs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The intensity in his eyes scare her, but she doesn’t look away. 

“He left us, Rook. I’m not sure why, he didn’t give us an explanation, he just left us to pick up the pieces. You found him and I’ll be forever grateful for that but...well sometimes I wished you had stayed and rebuilt Eden with us.”

“John,” she murmurs cautiously, “what are you getting at?”

He shakes his head and looks away. “We should go downstairs, Jacob and Faith will be here soon.” 

It takes everything in Rook not to get up and shout when Joseph starts speaking. His whole family is here, watching him as he paces the living room. 

He’s condemning her. She’s a snake, she’s wrathful, she’ll bring about the Collapse like a dark horse sent from hell. 

John cuts him off. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re both the problem? You and Rook? Both of your sins are becoming quite the issue—making life harder than it needs to be.”

Rook has to stop herself from lunging across the coffee table to throttle him. That’d only prove his point. Joseph sucks in a quiet breath and gives John this  _ look.  _ Like he’s just seeing his brother for the first time in years. 

“What are you saying, John?”

“Just that you told me I need to love the sinners around us, and I have been, but you aren’t following your own advice. You still hate Rook. For something she can’t control, no less.”

Joseph crosses the room to sit down beside Faith. Folding his hands neatly in his lap. “I don’t hate her.”

“You act like you do.”

Joseph looks away then. Embarrassed or humiliated, one of the two. “I...I’m sorry.” He fidgets, foot tapping out an anxious beat on the floor. “Rook, you and I have to work together—“

She snorts and he shoots her an awful glare. 

“We have to love one another before the rest of our flock suffers.”

She recoils and sinks back into the couch. “ _ Our  _ flock?” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Jacob’s smug little smile, like he’s enjoying this, the bastard. 

“Yes.” He gets up and walks around the table, coming to kneel down in front of her. He takes her hands and she has to resist the urge to squeeze them so hard that he’s forced to pull away. “They’ll accept you, they have to if they want their souls to be saved.”

Rook groans, falling against Jacob’s shoulder. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course. But you already knew that. You always knew this was how things would turn out.”

She blinks at him slowly. He’s right. But that’s nothing new—the Voice guided her here, as much as she hates to admit that. It was meant to be this way from the very beginning. Her and him, saving what little of Hope county they can. 

_ They’re so fucked.  _


End file.
